


your savior doesn't look a thing like me

by queenlara



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Gaara (Naruto), BAMF Haruno Sakura, Canon-Typical Violence, Does Haruno Sakura Is Gay?, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gen, Haruno Sakura is So Done, Haruno Sakura-centric, Hurt/Comfort, I know I tagged sasori but he's a ghost so don't get too excited, Kankuro is the bi-icon we deserve, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, No beta we die like Neji, Slice of Life, Sunagakure | Hidden Sand Village, Therapy, death of the author because I simply do not care to acknowledge canon, look me in the face and try to tell me Temari isn't a feral lesbian, no major character in this fic is heterosexual because I said so, no plot just vibes, sakura sensei
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenlara/pseuds/queenlara
Summary: Haunted by ghosts, Sakura leaves Konoha to help teach first aid and medical ninjutsu at the newly restructured Academy in Suna. Among the sand, she finds family, she finds purpose, and more importantly, she finds herself.
Relationships: Gaara & Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura & Kankurou, Haruno Sakura & Sasori, Haruno Sakura & Suna no Sankyoudai | Sand Siblings, Haruno Sakura & Temari, Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura/Temari, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 38
Kudos: 120





	1. I just killed off what was left of the optimist in me

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title comes from "idle worship" by paramore, chapter title comes from "rose colored boy" by paramore. The entire "after laughter" album is a huge inspiration to this fic - depression, but make it fun.
> 
> Look, this fic idea would simply not leave me alone. I've always been wary of writing Naruto fanfic because I stopped reading the manga after the chunin exam arc (a common theme, I've noticed) and the rest of my knowledge comes from sporadic episodes I've watched, wikipedia, and an insane amount of fanfic.
> 
> HOWEVER. I simply do not care anymore, because I would die for Haruno Sakura and I desperately wanted to write fic, canon be damned. And I will not rest until Sakura gets the emotional growth and healing she deserves.
> 
> This fic has very little plot, because I care more about writing character development and emotional healing than actual plot. This fic is more in the slice of life vein, where I have topics and smaller events that I'd like to cover, and it will run as long as I have interest in writing it.
> 
> It's hard to proofread your own writing, so if I've made grammatical errors just let me know in the comments.

She dreams of chests splintering under her fist, blood and shards of bone spraying out from the impact of her gloved hand. The moment shifts, and she’s manually pumping the heart in her hand, pumping chakra into a body that’s a yawning maw, and she’s drained, but it takes and it takes  _ and it takes _ —

Sakura awakens with a sharp intake of breath, body tensing under her twisted blanket and sheets, listening, listening,  _ listening _ — nothing. She relaxes imperceptibly, hand dragging through her hair, and watches the first rays of sunlight peek into her window.

The ghosts seem to fade in the sunlight, and she breathes. In, and out, lungs expanding and contracting as oxygen is converted to carbon dioxide and released, and Sakura wonders when she had to manually remind her body to do what it was designed to do. It was all too easy to sink into the mechanics of that, and a little harder to remind herself she was a human, more than a body made of thousands of moving parts and intricate systems.

Sakura takes one more moment laying down, feeling the  _ drip-drip-drip _ of chakra going to form her second byakugō seal just under her collarbone, nearly full and ready to manifest, and the pleasant hum of warm chakra on her forehead of her first seal. She reminds herself that she’s powerful, and the chances of her draining her chakra nowadays are rendered almost null due to her seals. She’ll never be weak  _ again. _

She looks down at her hands, and blinks away the red blood dripping from her fingers. Sakura hears the ghosts hum behind her, a giant hive, shifting closer as she takes in her hands, and she shuts out the whispers, hands clenching in her lap. 

Red used to be her favorite color. Now, it just feels like a mockery of the lives she’s taken and the lives she’s failed to save. Quietly, she slips out of bed and into her soft black jonin sweater, split-skirt apron and shorts, and ties her hair back into a ponytail. Sakura toys with the idea of cutting it, but Ino’s fond of running her fingers through Sakura’s long hair, and frankly, Sakura enjoys the simple act of intimacy.

Leaving Ino will be hard, Sakura decides, and Tenten as well. But, but, with her ghosts groaning in her periphery, Konoha is a little too crowded for her, anyway. The claustrophobia is a physical weight on her chest, and she finally ironed out the details of her next long-term mission with Tsunade-shishou, and her nervous energy to just  _ get out of here _ is a physical ache.

_ Ino and Tenten will visit _ , she promises herself.  _ And when they come, I will be a little more whole, a little more human, a little more me. _

* * *

“Sakura,” Sai greets her on her doorstep with an only slightly unnerving smile.  _ He’s getting better at that _ , she thinks. “I broke Naruto’s ribs.”

Sakura snorts, stepping back from her front door to allow Sai to enter her living room, a groaning Naruto in tow.

“Sakura-chan!” Naruto says with a cheerful wheeze, one arm wrapped around his middle. “Can you heal me? Sai and I have a mission tonight, and I don’t want baa-chan to yell at me.”

“Don’t call her baa-chan,” she retorts automatically, her own hand sliding Naruto’s out of the way to feel her way down his side as she carefully sends a chakra pulse through his middle and — there. Ribs seven and eight on the right were fractured, and she sends a steady stream of numbing chakra through his pathways before settling a glowing green hand more firmly on his right side.

“Why did you break Naruto’s ribs, Sai?”

“Just a pre-mission spar,” he says blandly. “Team bonding.”

Sakura just shakes her head in response as she finishes healing his ribs and then begins methodically checking the rest of his body with a practiced eye before moving to Sai.

“You know, you could always go to the hospital, plenty of talented med-nin there,” she comments, and Sai eyes her sympathetically. He’s heard her rant on this topic plenty of times as she patches Naruto and Sasuke back together.

“But that’s what you’re here for, right, Sakura-chan?”

_ I exist for more than that, don’t I? _ Sakura thinks, frowning to herself as she seals a mild cut on Sai’s forearm, ignoring the invisible weight of the ghosts pressing against her back.  _ More than a pair of glowing green hands, right? _

_ Do you?  _ the ghosts ask cruelly, and Sakura doesn’t respond.

“I have to go see Tsunade-shishou soon,” she tells them both, stepping away from Sai and eyeing both of her boys.

“Are you going on a mission?” Naruto asks, frowning at her. “Alone?”

Sakura shrugs, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe. She didn’t tell me why she needs to see me,” she lies. She can’t tell Naruto, not yet. He won’t understand, and  _ worse _ , he might try and stop her, and she’ll crack under the pressure. She feels her patience begin to splinter, and clenches her fists to draw her ire away from the blonde. Her patience had thinned and thinned and thinned over time, leaving only a threadbare sheet to protect the world from her considerable temper.

Sakura moves to the kitchen, digging into her cabinets. “Instant ramen?” she offers, and the frown is wiped off of Naruto’s face as he nods eagerly. She puts the kettle on, and leans against the counter, watching Sai and Naruto bicker at her kitchen table. It's a habit now, to watch their backs, but they haven’t looked behind them yet. She doesn’t blame them, not really.

Sai glances at her, eyes sharp, and she shakes her head silently.  _ No _ , she mouths.  _ Don’t tell him. Not yet. _

Frowning, he nods, and faces Naruto once more.

_ Thank Kami for Sai _ , she thinks, not for the first time. In the shadow of two reincarnated gods, she and Sai had worked for years, keeping them alive, finishing the mission, making the hard choices.

Sakura pats his shoulder, and moves towards the door, grabbing her pouch and strapping it around her thigh.

“Lock up behind me, alright? I’m going to see Tsunade-shishou now.”

* * *

Sakura stares at her shishou, her ghosts pressing against her back, and the way Tsunade surveys her, Sakura wonders if Tsunade sees them too. The blonde’s eyes sharpen, fingers linked as she rests her chin atop them.

“You’re sure, then?”

Sakura nods once. “I need to do this,” Sakura confesses to her mentor, asking for absolution. “Suna...needs me,” she tries, and then frowns.  _ No, that’s not right _ . While that may be the diplomatic answer, it’s not the truth, and Tsunade will settle for nothing but the truth right now.

“I need Suna. What Gaara-sama is doing will change  _ everything _ . And I want to change. And be a part of that change. Kakashi can’t change the system, and Naruto won’t change the system because he doesn’t understand it yet,” Sakura explains, spine stiffening to steel under the gaze of the woman who molded her into who she was, who she  _ is _ . 

“They’re reinventing the Academy, doing the things Konoha can’t— _ won’t _ —do. And to be a part of that? It’s all I want, shishou. Konoha has two world-class med-nins. I think Suna deserves one, too,” Sakura finishes, smiling crookedly at Tsunade.

With a little time and a lot of distance, Sakura knows she can find herself again, and Tsunade, more than anyone, even Ino, knows this too. It’s why she’s retiring the hat, passing it down to Kakashi, and then Naruto. The village is too resistant to change, and the clans and the council hold too much sway in maintaining the status quo — her hands are tied, and Tsunade is tired of holding the lives of child soldiers in her bloodsoaked hands for the greater good of the village.

The hospital needs her, and more than anything, Tsunade needs the hospital. To prevent another Dan, to prevent another Neji, to prevent countless other needless deaths — saving lives, not taking lives. 

Tsunade  _ hmms _ quietly. “Officially, this is a temporary transfer,” she says, “to help improve the next batch of Suna shinobi. Shizune will act as liaison between Konoha’s and Suna’s medical system. It’s an important gesture of the alliance between us, so it’s imperative to do well.”

Unofficially, Sakura knows she has until they establish Naruto as Hokage to prove her worth to Suna — to make her worth fighting to keep. Because Naruto doesn’t know how to let go, and is liable to keep a stranglehold on her, because he doesn’t know how to love any other way. 

Sakura has four years, maybe five if she’s lucky and Kakashi actually teaches Naruto how to politic properly, to become indispensable. Four years to make the lives she’s changed, lives she’s saved, tally up enough to risk alienating Konoha if Naruto loses his cool.

Sakura is used to these odds — she’s been fighting to prove her place, prove her worth, since she was 6 years old, shy and afraid of her own shadow, a little ghost that Ino found and tucked under her wing.

“Gaara is aware of your...conditions, and he accepts them. You have 48 hours to leave the village.”

_ Conditions: I don’t want to take more lives than I have to. I want to stay. I want to create a home. I don’t want to watch 12-year-olds die on the operating table, bleeding out from explosive tags, part of a battle they’re too young to fight. _

“Yes, shishou.”

“We’ll send messages via Katsuyu. Shizune and I will make sure they make their way to the right people, and no one else. We’ll expect weekly reports for the first three months, and then you can submit monthly reports.”

“Yes, shishou.”

“You said Ino will take care of closing out your apartment, right? Have her check-in with me if she runs into any trouble with those feral men you call your teammates. Kakashi’s hokage ceremony should keep everyone busy for a week or two, and Naruto and Sai should head out on their mission tonight. Sasuke isn’t due back for another three days. This is your last chance to change your mind, Sakura. Are you sure?”

“Yes, shishou.”

Tsunade gestures her over, and wraps her student in a quick hug and drops her byakugō seal to Sakura’s, breathing deeply.

“Be safe, you brat. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“ _ Yes, shishou _ ,” Sakura whispers, throat tight with emotion. For one kami-blessed moment, her ghosts vanish from her periphery in the warm circle of her mentor’s arms.

* * *

It’s later than she wanted, now, as she stumbles home from drinks with Tenten and Ino, but the booze relieves the pressure, even temporarily, of the bloody spectres that hang just out of sight, damning her hands for killing or failing to save them.

Unlocking her front door, she wobbles in the entryway, thinking blearily,  _ no more getting drunk with Ino and Tenten. This could be my last time stumbling drunkenly home from the bar in Konoha. _ Snorting to herself at the thought, she makes her way through the kitchen to put on a kettle of tea, and sends a pulse of chakra through her system to stimulate her liver into breaking down the alcohol a teensy bit faster.

Cradling a cup of bitter tea, she sinks into the couch, staring at the team photos that decorate her bookshelves. They all look so  _ young  _ there, innocent and wide-eyed, even Sasuke hadn’t quite settled into the apathetic expression that now lives semi-permanently on his face. She feels old now, at 23, too old to be reinventing herself and hoping for more.

_ It’s not them _ , she thinks morosely,  _ it’s me. I’m not happy to fit in that slot behind them anymore. _

That night, she slips into a familiar dreamscape, one of the few that doesn’t evoke terror. Atasai-san was the first patient she lost in her med-nin training, a swift and brutal cancer that even Tsunade-shishou couldn’t cure, but Sakura would visit him daily to pump soothing chakra into his veins to reduce the pain of his inevitable end, and she always ended up staying to play shogi.

The board before them in this muted room is a familiar one, halfway through the final game she played with him in his last day of life. Atasai sits in his hospital bed, frail and propped up by pillows, but the glint in his eye is familiar and far too alive for a dead man.

“Ah, Sakura-chan,” he says expansively, gesturing to the board. “Always a pleasure to play with you.”

Sakura glances down at herself, younger and smaller than she is now, in the familiar-unfamiliar body of her 14-year-old self. Atasai-san is her favorite ghost to meet in this in-between dreamscape, but she still carries his guilt with her. Otherwise, why would she dream of him?

“Atasai-san, it’s good to see you,” she murmurs, her hands automatically moving to the shogi board and moving a pawn forward in a game in a move she’s played a hundred times with him. She can’t vary the moves of this game, her hands don’t quite obey her here.

Atasai rubs his chin in thought. “You’re moving to Suna,” he says, pushing a rook forward. “Are you running away?”

“Running towards, maybe,” Sakura acknowledges. “I have a chance to make a difference there.”

“You’ve made a difference here, Sakura-chan.”

“I couldn’t save you,” she counters, narrowing her eyes at his frail form, racked with pain even many years dead.

“No one could save me,” he tells her gently, tapping the king tile gently, a conversation they’ve had a hundred times.

Sakura shrugs noncommittally. “I can make more of a difference there than I can here. Besides, I need the change of scenery,” she admits.

“Can’t argue with that,” Atasai snorts, glaring at the muted hospital room they sit in. 

“Have I changed? Or have they changed?” Sakura asks suddenly. “I thought I’d be happy watching their backs, that’s all I wanted to do. But…”

“Now you want more?” He asks slyley, moving his knight into position. “It’s not a crime to change your mind, Sakura, or to want more. You’re a kid, for kami’s sake.”

Sakura smiles at him, and before she knows it, she’s slipping further into her dreams, unfinished game left behind.

Sakura awakens to banging on her bedroom door.

“Forehead, I’m coming in!” Ino yells as she barges into her bedroom. “Cute pajamas, by the way.”

Sakura looks down at a t-shirt she’d stolen from Ino, that Ino had stolen from Choji, draped over her like an enormous gown.

“You can always steal more shirts from Choji, pig,” Sakura teases, scooting over as Ino crawls into bed next to her, sharing her warmth under her covers.

“I’m going to miss you,” Ino admits in the sanctuary of flower-printed sheets. “But I know you’re going to do great things.”

“I’ll miss you too, but I promise to write. Will you visit?”

“As soon as I’m able,” Ino swears, playing with a lock of Sakura’s hair. “I’d come with you, but —”

“Clan shit,” they finish in tandem, and Sakura buries her head under the covers, grinning. 

“Why am I best friends with a clan heir?”

“Because I’m fantastic, that’s why. Now get up, Tenten’s coming over soon to help get you packed, and you have to tell me what you want me to do with all the rest of your belongings.”

“Thanks, Ino.”

* * *

Tenten helped Sakura store her most important belongings in storage scrolls, tucked carefully in the bottom of her back, so she’s traveling blissfully light as she waves at the guards at the village gates. She’s filled with a curious combination of elation and dread, and each tree she pushes off is lighter than the last until she’s racing herself, racing her ghosts, electricity thrumming through her veins.

A familiar chakra signature, angled to intercept her, brings her to a grinding halt. Sakura had hoped to be out of the village before Sasuke returned from his mission, but Sakura learned long ago things never went her way. How could they? The universe could only afford to care about one golden child and one angry boy, with little room left in between.

She waits for him in a clearing, because she’s always been waiting for him, even when she didn’t realize it. Unattainable  _ boy-man-avenger _ , and his pink shadow, never quite catching up. Naruto and Sasuke orbit each other, yin and yang, and there’s no room for another in their all-consuming gravity.

He drops from the tree without warning, his traveling cloak dirty, but little other amiss with his appearance. He always manages to look cool, calm, collected — like everything was at least a little bit beneath him, and she feels stripped naked under his gaze.

Sasuke holds most of her lifelong insecurities in his uncaring hands, and she can’t help but hate him for it.

He stares at her, waiting for her to explain herself, and her stomach is too busy tying itself in knots for her to answer.

“I hope your mission went well,” she offers politely, trying to avoid the impulse to bite her own tongue off, even if she can heal it — she doesn’t want to spit a mouthful of blood at him, after all. “Naruto will be bummed he missed you, he and Sai just left the village yesterday to visit Kumo.”

“You’re leaving the village?” Sasuke finally asks, the question hanging awkwardly as she hears the unspoken  _ “alone?”  _ he tacks on to it.

“Suna needs me,” she parrots, offering no more than that.

“Does Naruto know?”

“He’s out of the village on a mission, I didn’t exactly get a chance to tell him,”  _ not a lie; not a lie but not quite the truth. _

“Hn.”

Her ghosts flicker at the edges of her vision, pushing inward, and if she focused hard enough, she might catch their whispers. Straightening, Sakura focuses on Sasuke, tilting her head up at him as he steps in closer.

“Don’t die on your way there.”

Stiffening, Sakura bites down on any number of responses that come to her lips. Sasuke could even turn a simple “be safe” into an insult, his care and apathy rolled into one irritating sentence.

“I’ll do my best,” Sakura says dryly, gripping her pack, and without further conversation, steps around Sasuke and leaps back into the trees.

Half of the battle took place in the maze of her own mind, afraid of his opinions, his responses, his derision, even when logically she knows that she is strong, and capable, and should be beyond caring what others think of her, but it’s ingrained too deep in her psyche to dig out now.

When she camps on the edge of Fire Country, tucked in a copse of trees, her nerves are so badly frayed she drops her flint rock twice in the process of starting a fire. And when she sleeps, she slips so easily into the space in between dreaming and reality, and —

_ Oh _ , she thinks,  _ it’s this one again _ . Looking down, she sees her left hand clutched around a blade piercing her midsection, and in her right, a beating heart.

“Fancy seeing you here, little girl,” Sasori drawls, like he isn’t a desiccated puppet in the process of having his living heart crushed in her gloved hand.

Sakura tsks, dropping to her knees as the pain radiates from her center, fresh no matter how many times she’s slipped through this dreamspace, no matter how logically she knows the scar is puckered but healed on her corporeal form. It kills her to not have her byakugō seal in this dream, a reminder of just how fragile she used to be.

“I just had to drop by, seeing as you’re moving to my village,” Sasori continues, like blood isn’t dripping out of her mouth, and she gives his heart a vindictive squeeze. “That never works here, little girl, you know that. I’m dead, if you recall. This is only a memory”

“No one told me the dead would haunt me when I signed up for the Academy, so a girl can dream,” Sakura sighs, her hand going through the familiar motions of crushing his heart and dropping it to the ground beside her.

Sasori shrugs his crumbling shoulder and settles next to her, shoulders brushing like they’re friends, and this isn’t some fucked up hallucination or spiritual intervention.

“You care too much, Sakura-chan. It makes you very easy to haunt, all of your mistakes and misdeeds tangled around you like a puppet with loose strings. A little girl with a heart like yours should’ve never been a ninja.”

Sakura gives the sword in her middle an experimental tug, but it won’t slide out in this dreamscape, it never does, but it gives her something to do besides looking at Sasori.

“Well, I am a ninja, and I can’t change the past,” she says. “Just the future.”

“Yes, and what a future that will be,” he mocks, “doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past in a new village. More ghosts to add to your cohort, more material for your creative nightmares. I must admit, your medical knowledge really adds a certain pizazz to your nightmares that I certainly didn’t have while I was alive.”

“Get bent, Sasori,” Sakura croaks, sputtering out more blood.

“Don’t deny me my simple pleasures,” he tuts. “I’m dead, you know, there’s not a lot else I can do but haunt you.”

“Shouldn’t you...move on, or something, old man?” Sakura waves her hands, and wipes the blood trickling out of her mouth. A sure sign her time in the dreamscape was nearing an end, and frankly, when it came to Sasori, it couldn’t end soon enough.

“The Pure Lands? I’d rather wait for you to join me, little girl. I’m sure it will be sooner rather than later.”

Growling, she shoves his shoulder, but instead of pushing him, she ends up hurtling downwards into a yawning abyss as he waves goodbye, shrinking in the distance above her... _ Bastard,  _ she thinks viciously.

Sakura awakens with a spasm the next morning, left hand instinctively covering her midsection. She hated dreaming of Sasori, he was a rat-bastard in life and even more of a rat-bastard in death, and her scar always ached something fierce after she dreamed of him.

Stretching out in her bedroll, she peeks through the canopy of the trees.

_ Two more days until Suna _ , Sakura thinks, and begins to crawl out of her bedroll. 


	2. survival will not be the hardest part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura arrives in Suna to a familiar face, and lesson planning begins. Family bonding ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for *clapclapclapclap* exposition? Ask me about how I’ve restructured the Academy, I have like two pages in my google doc dedicated to all my thoughts about how it works in Suna now. Stop making 12 year olds kill people, it’s fucked up. Not that I’ve done any major moral changes on how it works, because ya know, the economy of violence. 
> 
> Chapter title comes from “26” by Paramore.
> 
> Sometimes I wonder if my writing is bad, and then I realize a publishing company pays me $15 an hour to catch grammatical errors in an AU where Teddy Roosevelt is in his fifth term as president, and there are lesbian spies, so who’s the real winner here?

Temari smiles, feral and sharp, and Sakura’s heart jumps in her chest.  _ Oh _ , she thinks,  _ oh no _ . Ino would be laughing hysterically at her right now, and all Sakura can think about is how had she never noticed how  _ pretty _ and  _ deadly _ the sand kunoichi was? Maybe because almost every other time she’s been to Suna, it’s been either an emergency situation or a diplomatic slog.

She’s only just arrived at Suna’s gates after three days of travel, and two nights of restless dreaming and visits from Sasori, who seems to take vindictive pleasure in lecturing her about the thousands of ways she could ruin everything in Suna. 

She’s never had the same ghost haunt her dreamscape two nights in a row, only if the hundreds clamoring to torment her would never allow it, but Sasori has always broken all the rules. The kill that got her into the bingo book, for all the good that it did her.

“Welcome to Sunagakure, Sakura-san,” Temari says, inclining her head with all the grace of the eldest daughter of a kage, while the smile dances on her face.

“Sakura, please,” she manages, face flushing. Kami, good thing she can blame the sunburn she’s definitely suffering from.

“Then call me Temari,” the blonde retorts, her smile growing to encompass sharp canines, and Sakura’s heart gives another flutter.

“Temari,” Sakura demures, “where can I settle in? And maybe take a cold, cold, shower?”

Temari gestures and turns around at the gate, and Sakura falls into step at her side. 

“You’ll be staying with us, at the Kazekage’s compound. If you choose to get your own place after three months, that’s fine, but we’d like you to settle in with us first. We try to eat dinner as a family at least three nights a week.” Temari glaces sideways at Sakura, tilting her head. “Family dinner  _ is  _ mandatory.”

Sakura’s eyebrows are crawling up her forehead, more than a little confused about the warm welcome, trying to figure out how to phrase her concerns. They’re moving at an easy pace through the village, and Sakura eyes flit around the food stands and the general chatter of the crowds. Kami, Suna was hot, but beautiful — the blazing blue sky, soft golden sand, the lively activity as the sun dropped from its peak.

“Are you sure I won’t be intruding?” Sakura settles on, running an absentminded hand through her ponytail, working out the snarls and knots with one mindless hand.

“Of course not,” Temari scoffs and flaps one hand. “It’s the least we can do, and our guest rooms are the best in the village. Besides,” she adds thoughtfully, “we’ll be working pretty closely together on the new Academy curriculum.”

“Tsunade-shishou said you were doing some pretty revolutionary things over here, with the restructuring.”

Temari’s eyes light up. “We are! How much did she tell you about what we’re doing?”

“Only the basics, so I could start thinking about lesson planning,” Sakura confides. “I think she wanted you to be able to give me the whole spiel once I got here.”

“How kind of her,” Temari quips. “I’ll let you shower and settle in first before lecturing you. I think teaching is rubbing off on me, or at least that’s what Kankurō complains about.”

“Naruto complained that I was becoming more and more like Tsunade-shishou by the day, when I first started training with her,” she confides, “I just don’t think he realized I was always like that, but Tsunade just gave me... _ permission _ to be angry instead of bottling it up. It’s freeing, to settle into what you’re supposed to be.”

“Exactly!” Temari exclaims. “Teaching and working in the Academy just gave all my controlling instincts an outlet. When I first started teaching, it just felt  _ right _ , like I could make a difference in more lives than just my idiot brothers.”

Sakura nods her understanding, bumping shoulders with the blonde girl. “All that being said, I don’t think they wouldn’t have made it to adulthood without you.”

“Fuck no. They owe their lives to me, a hundred times over. Just like  _ your _ idiot team owes you their lives a hundred times over.” Temari snorts. “Boys. Where would they be without us?”

“Six feet under, if they had anything to do with it.”

* * *

_ Thank kami for showers, _ Sakura thinks, toweling her clean hair dry after a good 30 minutes of removing sand from places where it wasn’t meant to be. Her room is simple, light, with the privilege of a private bathroom. A queen bed, a desk, and two large bookshelves take up most of the room, with a closet and dresser tucked in one corner. It’s not home — not yet, but with the addition of her team photos and a few of her, Ino, and Tenten, it soothes the ache in her chest.

Slipping into an overly large jonin sweater she stole from Kakashi and a soft pair of leggings, Sakura relishes in the joy of feeling clean and attempts to set her new room to rights. 

Fortunately, when she arrived disgusting and sweaty to the Kazekage household, both Gaara and Kankurō hadn’t been home, respectively in the kage’s office and the poison labs — which Sakura couldn’t  _ wait _ to see — but she still had about an hour before she needed to meet Temari downstairs to start laying out the groundwork of lesson planning. 

Organizing her medical scrolls would come first, as well as locating the notebook she had started jotting down ideas for a curriculum in. She also has a pile of new-old clothes, courtesy of Temari, because  _ Sakura, you can’t wear black jonin sweaters all the time or you’ll sweat to death, kami, aren’t you a med-nin? _

Temari had provided her with soft, loose, long sleeve shirts to protect her arms from the sun, sturdy split-side skirts and durable pants, all in varying shades of muted beige, purples, and grays, as well as a few sets of the standard Suna hospital uniform for shifts, and of course, a set of their terrible, ugly diplomatic robes for any presentations she might need to make to the Suna council. Gaara’s council at least had the benefit of still being afraid of the former jinchūriki but village councils were village councils, and every member deserved a punch in the face at least  _ once _ .

Sighing, she unseals her scroll with all her medical scrolls and tomes and begins slotting them in the shelves, organized alphabetically by topic and losing herself in the mindless task. Her journal, she tosses on her desk, and takes a quick break to braid her partially dry hair, humming tunelessly to herself. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees flashes of movement, the familiar undulation of spectres pushing inwards. It’s second nature, now, to push them out of her mind. Sakura knows it’s not normal to be haunted by her deeds quite so literally, but all ninjas carry their burdens in different ways, she supposes. She just carries her sins painted in the periphery of her vision.

A knock jolts her out of her reverie, and she glances to the partially open door where Temari is leaning casually against the doorframe, her hair loose around her shoulders, wearing an almost identical outfit to Sakura. 

“Knock knock,” Temari grins. “Ready to talk shop?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sakura grins back, standing swifty and stretching her arms above her head, feeling a few bones in her spine crack pleasantly.

“Are you sure that’s healthy for you?” Temari eyes her as she twists to finish popping her back.

“I’m the med-nin, and I say it’s fine. Does that work?”

The blonde rolls her eyes and moves down the hallway and down the stairs, Sakura padding quietly behind her. 

“All my notes are downstairs in my office, but we can chat at the kitchen table. Tea?” Temari offers, moving into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Please,” Sakura responds, nodding and pulling out a seat at the spacious kitchen table. Temari pulls out two mugs, drops tea bags into them, and then moves to a closed door off the living room that Sakura assumes must be her office, shutting the door carefully behind her.

Sakura drums her fingers on the table, the pressure of the ghosts behind her an almost visceral feeling now that she’s alone in the wide kitchen-dining-living room, head cocked towards the stove to listen for the kettle. She can do this. She taught Ino medical ninjutsu when she was barely trained herself, she can teach a bunch of brats to keep themselves and their teammates alive. The derisive laughter echoing in her brain sounds a lot like Sasori, and Sakura grinds her teeth instinctively.  _ Bastard _ , she thinks, not for the first time.  _ I can do this. _

The kettle whistling breaks her downward thought spiral, Sakura leaping out of her chair to pull the kettle off the stove and pour the hot water over the tea pouches, bringing both mugs to the kitchen table as Temari walks out of her office with a comically large stack of paper.

“Okay, okay, I know this looks like a lot of information. And it is. But it’s all important,” Temari assures her, and Sakura waves a hand to assuage the worries.

“Temari, I read stacks of documents like that in two days when I was first starting my apprenticeship. That won’t scare me away.”

“Right,” Temari grins, dropping the stack of paper on the table. “Well, let me lay out the groundwork of how we’ve changed the schooling system.

“Obviously, 12 years old is just too young to be out murdering people without damaging your psyche. Look at anyone in our generation, we’re all a little fucked up. So we’ve started a general public school that runs from five to 10 years old, and then students can opt into the Academy or other specialized schooling and apprenticeships. The Academy then runs for four years, so you’ll be dealing mostly with 10 to 14 year olds, and this is where you come in.”

Temari shuffles the papers, and pulls out one seemingly at random. Peering closer, Sakura can see it’s a generalized schedule that lays out the topics covered for each year level. 

“You’ll work with the first and second years as a group once a month, and cover a really basic topic with them. The idea is to cover things with very little emphasis on chakra and topics that don’t really have to be covered sequentially, but the topics, of course, are up to you. I’d like to review them, but that’s just because Kankurō says I’m a bit of a control freak.” Temari looks up at Sakura and grins. “I’ll let you be the judge of that, but I’ll remind you that they survived puberty because of me.”

Sakura puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Can’t argue with that.”

“You’ll mostly be working with the third and fourth years. By then, their chakra control should be fine-tuned enough to handle some simple medical ninjutsu, and emotionally should be better prepared for what they might see. That being said, that’s one of the bigger changes that Gaara spearheaded — mandatory counseling. We don’t want to create another Sasori” — Sakura twitches minutely at the name — “and we want to give the students all the tools they’ll need to deal with, well, everything that we deal with.

“Once the kids finish formal schooling at 14, the teachers should have an idea of where their talents lie, so we have a two-year internship for after they graduate as probationary genin. They have the option of splitting their internship over two different specialities or just sticking with one for both years. After that, they’re officially placed on genin teams, and at 18 they can try for chūnin, if they choose to.” Temari shrugs. “The council kicked up a fuss at all the changes, but we’re making more stable shinobi who should have the tools they need to get the job done. It’s hard to argue with that.”

Sakura nods thoughtfully. This,  _ this  _ is the kind of structure that could begin revolutionizing the shinobi world, and if Konoha wasn’t so mired in clan politics and outdated fossils on the council, they might be able to make similar changes. 

“This is...the third year since the initial restructuring, right? What kind of medical ninjutsu training has been provided up until now?”

“We have med-nins and doctors from the hospital rotating duties by semester, but we really need a dedicated teacher. It’s hard for the staff to keep up with what’s been taught, but it’s already reduced our fatality rates. Our goal is to beat Konoha’s rates in another three years.”

“That should be doable. Shizune-senpai has been doing something similar, albeit on a smaller scale, to make sure at least one genin on each three-man team has some basic medical training. It’s really made a difference,” Sakura offers. “But this? This is revolutionary, Temari. I’m honored you thought I’d be a good fit, and it’s incredible to see the work you’ve put into this.”

Temari, to Sakura’s surprise, flushes slightly. “We’re getting there,” she deflects. “And I wouldn't have been able to do it without Gaara bullying the council into submission. But thank you. Do you have any questions so far?”

Sakura  _ hmms  _ in response. “Let me read my way through the stack of papers before I ask anything else. The Academy is on break right now, right?”

Temari nods, fingers wrapping around her mug of tea. “We give them July and January off, so they just wrapped a full school year. It gives you some time to lesson plan, but don’t worry, we’ll keep you busy for the month. We want to get full use of our Konoha-nin,” she adds, eyes flashing with mirth. 

“Oh?”

Temari grins and paws through her stack of papers again. “Hold on, I have a schedule for you. We also want you to start integrating yourself into Suna, so we thought it would be a good idea to have you rotate around.”

“ _ We? _ ”

“Well, me, Kankurō and Gaara. Mostly me and Gaara, but only because Kankurō can be a lazy bastard. Ah! Here it is,” Temari finishes, passing her another piece of paper with a handwritten schedule on it in a neat and tidy script.

_ Haruno Sakura — July Schedule _

_ Mondays — off _

_ Tuesday & Thursday — lesson planning & academy structure (Temari) _

_ Wednesday & Friday — diplomatic assistance (Gaara) _

_ Saturday & Sunday — hospital & labs (Kankurō) _

And written at the bottom in a messy scrawl:

_ Kami, Temari, are you trying to kill her? _

And finally, in a third handwriting, on the right side of the paper:

_ F.D. — T/Th/Su @ 6:30  _

“I know it looks busy, but most of these aren’t all day tasks. I’ll get you on Tuesday and Thursdays so we can start hammering out lesson plans for your courses, you’ll help Gaara on Wednesdays and Fridays — I know you helped Tsunade-sama a lot, and honestly, Gaara’s assistants keep quitting, so we could use the help — and on the weekend you’ll be covering some shifts in the hospital or helping Kankurō in the labs. 

“And once the school year starts again, you’ll have a normal weekend — unless you want to take more hospital shifts, of course. I’m sure the hospital wouldn’t turn down the extra help.”

Sakura felt relieved. Work, she could handle. It was free time that was the trouble. Speaking of…

“What’s this mean?” Sakura asks, tapping the right side of the paper where the  _ F.D. _ note was written.

“Family dinner. Gaara wanted to make sure you knew when it was. We all take turns cooking. Kankurō likes spicy food though, so be careful on Thursdays if you’re not into that. Can you cook?”

“Simple stuff. I’ve never made Suna food though,” Sakura hedges, and Temari waves her hand.

“We’ll teach you, but don’t worry about it until the Academy starts up again. I don’t want to overload you too much.”

“What do you call this schedule, then?” Sakura asks wryly.

“You can’t fool me, Haruno. This stuff is a piece of cake for you after all you’ve done.”

“You’re right, I just wanted to give you a hard time,” Sakura giggles. The sound of the front door lock  _ snick _ -ing out of place has her twisting her head to see Gaara stepping inside.

“Kazekage-sama,” Sakura greets, standing from her chair. She’s not quite sure how to be formal in greeting the Kazekage in his own home, when she’s basically wearing pajamas, but she’ll give it her all. “Greetings from Leaf.”

Gaara just waves a hand. “Gaara, please, when we’re in private. I try not to think about the word “kazekage” in my own home,” he says dryly, shrugging out of his robes and unceremoniously dumping them on the coat rack.

Temari jerks her head towards the kitchen. “Leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry, Gaara.”

“Oh, Sakura-san,” Gaara begins, and Sakura frowns.

“Just Sakura, please, especially since you’ve invited me to live in your home. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Alright, Just Sakura. Hold out your hands, and close your eyes.”

“Oh...kay,” she frowns, complying with his order. It rang every alarm bell in her head, to be closing her eyes in an unfamiliar place surrounded by Sand shinobi, but it was the least she could do.

Once she feels a small, cool surface placed in her hands, she opens her eyes.

A tiny cactus in a delicate pink pot is sitting carefully in her outstretched hands.

“A cactus,” Gaara supplies helpfully. “A welcoming gift.”

“Thanks,” Sakura replies, blinking. It was...cute, absurdly so. She didn’t know Gaara could  _ do  _ cute, but maybe that was just her being judgemental.

“It’s one of my more recent propagations,” Gaara continues. “It rooted much faster than I thought it would. It should bloom soon.”

“You  _ propagated _ this yourself?”

“Hobbies are a healthy thing to have,” the redhead shrugs, moving into the kitchen for the aforementioned leftovers. “Welcome to Suna, Sakura.”

* * *

She slips into the dreamscape as soon as her eyes shut, mind swirling with lesson plans and soft smiles that make her heart flutter, but she groans as soon she opens her eyes in a familiar cave.

“Dammit, old man. Am I only ever going to see you every night?” Sakura complains, grasping the sword in her stomach, crushing the heart in her other hand with little to no thought.

Sasori tuts. “Young people these days have no manners.”

Sakura drops to her knees, giving the sword an experimental tug. Yes, it was stuck, like always.

“I wouldn’t have moved to Suna if i knew I would only see your face for the rest of my life.”

“I’m your most impressive kill, and you’ve returned to my homeland. Of course I’m going to be invested,” he offers, settling beside her. “After all, don’t you think it’s cute that they’re trying to prevent another one of  _ me _ ?”

Sakura rolls her eyes. “There will never be another you, Sasori. You’re one of a kind, thank kami. I’m just tired of reliving a time in my life where a sword in the stomach was a little bit more than an annoyance,” she huffs, one hand brushing her forehead where her seal wouldn’t appear for two more years, in this memory. Nowadays, it took a lot more to take her down, but she had been so young, so fresh and fragile in this fight.

“That’s right, aren’t you almost at two seals now? Why Sakura, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to be immortal. Afraid of dying, are you? Two byakugō just seems like... _ overkill _ ,” Sasori finishes, and taps her collarbone where her second seal was just shy of appearing. His fingers were smooth, too smooth, and she jolts.  _ Puppet. Right. _

“It’s not for  _ me _ ,” she snaps.  _ It’s so no one else has to die _ .

“Oh, little girl,” Sasori actually laughs at this. “Of course it’s for you. You’re afraid of death, who wouldn’t be?” He gestures to the crumbling cave around them, strewn with puppet parts. “You wouldn’t have fought so desperately here if you weren’t afraid of it.”

“Death is a natural part of life,” Sakura recites one of the first lessons Tsunade had ever taught her. “It’s inevitable.” Some blood dribbles out of her mouth, and Sakura shifts uncomfortably, the sword shifting with her. 

“Oorchimaru didn’t think so,” Sasori disagrees. “And the byakugō almost seems to defy it, doesn’t it? Why invent a seal like that if you didn’t want to extend your lifespan?”

“Using it cuts off a portion of your lifespan, old man.” Sakura plays with a strand of her shortened hair. Maybe she should cut it again, but she loved the ease of braiding it back.

“A flaw in the design,” Sasori waves his hand. “Haven’t you surpassed your mentor by now? I’m betting you could design a more efficient version with some clever fuinjutsu.”

“I’m not debating this with you. I killed you, I’m not sure why I have to be the subject of your inane rants night after night,” she snarls.

“Do you have anything else better to do, little girl?” Sasori asks, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “I’ve seen some of the other ghosts that haunt you. I, at least, must provide more stimulating conversation than some of that cannon fodder.”

“Kami, you’re a narcissist.”

Sasori only blinks at her, and gives her a push that sends her tumbling into the yawning abyss, settling her into deeper dreams and nightmares. 

* * *

Sakura awakens as she always does after Sasori, torso aching fiercely and incredibly pissed off. She slaps a hand gloved in green on the old scar, soothing the twinges with a few pulses. The scar was still ugly, puckered and pink; resisting all attempts to heal it completely from the poison Sasori designed. Even in her waking life, he lingered.

Sighing, she shuffles out of the warm cocoon of her covers — she’s not sure why, but the cold desert nights always surprise her — and makes her way to her desk. After she finished chatting with Temari last night, she had come back to her room and unpacked most of her clothes before falling into bed, and the room was already feeling a bit more like home. Gaara’s cactus sits cheerfully in her wide windowsill, and she makes an idle note to get a few more plants. Green always made her think of home, anyway.

She hadn’t seen Kankurō yet, but Temari had waved that away with an explanation that his sleep schedule was a bit screwy and he was working late in the labs most nights. She knew the feeling — for about six months last year, she had supervised second shift at the hospital, and she didn’t see Ino for about three weeks before Ino kicked in her door one morning demanding one-on-one time.

At her desk, she pulls out a blank piece of paper to pen a quick note to Tsunade and Shizune.

_ Tsunade-shishou (and Shizune) —  _

_ I’ve made it to Sand in one piece, and I’m staying at the Kazekage compound for now, at least. I sat down with Temari last night and she covered the basics of the restructuring — you’re right, shishou, it’s pretty revolutionary. Once we get it up and running in Suna, maybe it’ll trickle down to Konoha, if I can bully Naruto into it. Speaking of — I ran into Sasuke on the way out of the village, so he at least knows I’m heading to Suna. Let me know when Naruto gets back, I’d like to beat him to the punch and send him a letter first. He won’t like it, but there’s not much I can do about that. _

_ I’ll be working with Gaara two days a week to assist him with his workload, in the hospital two days a week, and two days with Temari on the lesson planning. Once I develop a curriculum and Temari approves, I’ll send a copy to Shizune, it might help her with some ideas on training the genin. _

_ I’ll see you both at the next kage summit, whenever that may be. _

_ — H.S. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I thought this was a fic with no ships, but Temari came out of the woodwork and slapped me in the face. Let me know in the comments if this should be femslash February and if I should bite the bullet and just embrace the TemaSaku ship. Also, Sasori makes way more appearances than I initially thought in the outline of this fic, but he’s a bastard and I love that creepy puppet man. 
> 
> As I stated in the tags, this is no plot, just vibes. So tell me what kinda shit you wanna see, I have a rough outline of things I’d like to cover but I always welcome new ideas. 
> 
> Second: I find it really hard to write when I'm actively proofreading other novels, just because my proofreading time (after I finish working my normal job) and my writing time tend to hold the same timeslot in my evening, and it's HARD to write creatively when I'm trying to catch every error in someone else's story. All that being said, I'm a dumbass who likes money so I took on more manuscripts then I was scheduled for, so chapter 3 will be delayed. I have about 1k written, but the rest will not be written until I wrap up my other deadlines. In the meantime, reviews really, really help keep me going!


	3. if it's okay a little grace would be appreciated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine is established, and Sakura goes to therapy. A crush begins to develop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken — we’re going down the TemaSaku rabbit hole. 
> 
> Relationship tags have been updated on the fic to reflect this.
> 
> Chapter title comes from “idle worship” by paramore.
> 
> Anyways, therapy is valid and important, and this chapter begins my love letter for it. Tell me about your therapy experiences in the comments. The therapy experience below is simply based on my own experiences in therapy/psychiatry. I have had 3 therapists and 3 psychiatrists, which by no means makes me an expert, but does make me qualified to say that therapy is cool, and helps me, personally.
> 
> All of your comments helped make this chapter happen, thank you!! It really helped motivate me to chip away at this chapter after working long, long hours. However, I’m under double deadlines right now and I actually cut down some of the outline for this chapter just so I could get it out to y’all (and because the creative juices just weren’t flowing, RIP).

Sakura pads down the stairs of the unfamiliar home eyeing all the details she hadn’t noticed the night before. It was beautiful — of course, it was the home of the Kazekage — with wide, airy windows to let in sunlight, pale wales, and dark, rich wooden floor. The dining area faced an interior courtyard, decorated with succulents. Sakura wondered if those were also grown by Gaara.

She moves into the kitchen hesitantly, honing in on a coffee pot. Remembering which cabinet Temari grabbed the mugs from last night, Sakura pulls a fresh mug and fills it to the brim, moving back towards the living room. In her sleep-addled state, she didn’t notice the brunette on the couch, yawning widely.

“Sakura,” Kankurō says in greeting, draped over the couch in a tank top and boxer shorts, sans-face paint.

“Well, that’s casual,” she remarks, ruffling his hair in response to some deeper instinct as she slides onto the couch next to him.

“We lost that last intimacy barrier when you dragged poison out of my internal organs, Haruno,” Kankurō drawls, tugging on the end of her braid.

“Can’t argue with that,” Sakura shrugs, sipping her coffee.  _ Ahh, bliss. _

“Did you get Temari’s lecture on the Academy? I told her she should wait until you had a good night’s sleep in you, but she’s relentless,” Kankurō complains, running a hand through his disheveled hair. 

“She gave me plenty of paperwork to look over,” Sakura comments, waving a stack of paper she had brought done with her to start perusing with her coffee, tucked partially inside her notebook. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you make so many enemies prancing around Fire Country healing people,” he snorts. “Real wicked of you.”

“I spent about equal amounts of time healing as I did punching holes in people, Kankurō,” she says dryly.

“Oooh,  _ kinky, _ ” Kankurō wiggles his eyebrows. “I love a woman who can snap me in half.”

“Speaking of snapping me in half,” Temari cuts in, moving down the stairs with her hair loose around her shoulders, “I’d love to spar with you sometime this week, Haruno. I’d like to see you  _ try  _ and get close enough to punch a hole in me.”

Sakura glances up at the blonde. “You’re on, Temari. Hope your skills haven’t gotten rusty now that you’re leading the Academy.”

“On the contrary, I find that after dealing with children all day I have  _ a lot _ of rage to get out on the training fields.”

Sakura laughs at that. In her experiences with the Academy kids and genin and Konoha, she can understand how they might inspire rage — she’d say Kakashi was justified for being late all of the time when Team 7 was young just to avoid them, but she can’t give him the credit — mostly, he was just a shitty teacher.

Temari throws herself on the couch, sprawling across both Kankurō’s and Sakura’s laps. 

“Just give me fifteen more minutes to wake up, and then we’ll start lesson planning,” she mumbles into the pillows.

Kankurō runs his fingers through her hair. “Hey, I was up way later than both of you last night, you’re not allowed to be this tired.”

“I’m the older sister, I’m always going to be the most tired,” Temari complains.

Sakura smiles into her coffee cup. She could get used to this.

* * *

“Okay,” Temari claps her hands together, looking far too energized for someone who was passed out on the couch a mere half hour ago. “I see you’ve come prepared, so lay it on me.”

Sakura dumps some scrolls on the kitchen table, and flips open her journal. “The scrolls are mostly here for moral support,” she admits. “They’re what Tsunade started me with, and when in doubt, go back to basics.

“I know I’m supposed to rotate topics every two years, but I do think it’s important to start out every year with the same two lectures: the human body, and assessing patients and symptoms. There’s nothing they can do  _ without  _ that baseline knowledge, and the repetition of a yearly review will be beneficial for the second year students. I’d say these lectures could even be open to all shinobi interested, or I’d be happy to give a separate lecture on it.” 

Sakura pauses, tapping her pen on her journal. “I know it seems basic, but I can’t move forward in training without knowing everyone’s starting level of knowledge, and this will allow me to set that base level of knowledge.”

Temari nods. “That’s understandable. We might take you up on hosting some basic seminars open to all shinobi, but we’ll focus on Academy-age kids for now. I don’t want to mix those sessions, at least at first.”

“Understandable. The younger ones will be more willing to ask questions if it’s only open to the Academy kids. I’ll also be starting the third and fourth years on the same two topics, but I’ll focus on them separately, because I’ll go into more detail with older students.

“I want to focus on non-chakra based solutions first, and then the end of the seminar cycle will focus on some basic medical ninjutsu, but more than likely it’s going to be the basics that will save lives — at least long enough to get the injured back to the hospital. That’s the goal of the program, in my mind. Preparation, prevention, and temporary solutions.”

Temari raises an eyebrow. “I expected there to be a catchy triple-p thing going on, here, with ‘preparation, prevention,’ but I guess not, huh?”

Sakura huffs and flips her braid over her shoulder. “Look, this is day one of lesson planning, alright? Lay off a bit. Anyways,” she clears her throat. “Back on topic. I have some familiarity with the common plants available in Wind Country, but I need to do some more studying on it. I’d like to focus on herbs and their uses for one seminar, basic wound care for another, and triage to start with.”

Sakura takes a breath here, briefly overwhelmed by all the topics she could cover with the students. What would save their lives, and what was superfluous? Would she make a difference, or just complicate things? She tries not to think about all the deaths on her hands in the war, where if any nin around the casualties had  _ any _ medical experience, would their lives have been forfeit? Could she even try and make up for those losses?

A wam, calloused hand pulls her out of her thoughts, curling gently around the fist that was clenched around her pen. Temari doesn’t say anything, but just looks at Sakura like the thoughts are written on her face. 

If Sakura squints, she can see the war-dead hovering around her, writhing in agony, so she takes a deep breath, and focuses on relaxing her hand under Temari’s gentle grip. Her heart aches, and Temari’s silence is the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

Taking another deep breath, she focuses.  _ Any knowledge has the possibility to help them. The entire setup of this new academy is to prevent 12-year-olds from going to the frontline. We can do this.  _ Temari’s hand remains, anchoring her to the earth.

“I’d also like to cover CPR, dehydration and heatstroke, and hypothermia and frostbite.”

Temari blinks, but doesn’t remove her hand yet. “Hypothermia? In the desert?”

“It’s good information to have, and who knows where their missions might take them. I don’t want to neglect it just because it’s not immediately relevant.”

The blonde nods. “It sounds like you have a good outline, then. What reference materials will you need for the first few classes?”

Sakura brightens. “I have a few ideas on that, actually.”

While she continues to talk, Temari’s hand is still covering Sakura’s, and Sakura feels no urgent need to rectify the situation.

* * *

“I know this is beneath you,” Gaara begins, and Sakura immediately worries.  _ Oh, kami, what is he going to ask? _

“...but I could really use some help with filing,” he finishes, gesturing to a haphazard stack of scrolls and folders on a table near his desk. 

“Oh, filing is easy, you had me worried for a second.”

Gaara grimaces. “You’re an unparalleled med-nin, the hokage’s apprentice, and a world-class kunoichi. It seems like a waste of talent.”

Sakura cocks her head. “It’s not a waste of talent if it needs to be done and no one’s doing it,” she offers. “Besides, I did this plenty with the hokage. Never underestimate the power of an efficient filing system.”

The Kazekage eyes her thoughtfully. “Don’t sound too enthusiastic, Sakura-san, or I’ll sic you on the hospital filing system as well. It seems all of our filing systems are pretty haphazard. We inherited a bit of a bureaucratic mess here in Suna.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Gaara-sama.”

They settle into a comfortable silence, as Sakura methodically tucks scrolls and files into their proper places, the monotony soothing to her.

Sakura hums tunelessly, a little ditty that Shizune would often whistle while they worked together.

“What song is that?”

“Sorry?

“What song were you humming?”

“I don’t know the name of it,” she admits. “Shizune-senpai often whistled it at home.”

“Do you miss Konoha? I admit that I was surprised when you accepted the assignment. We had hoped for a talented med-nin, but I didn’t think Konoha would part with you.”

“Konoha didn’t have a choice.” Sakura turns to face him, setting a few files on top of the cabinet. “I needed a change of pace, because I changed. And Konoha just...didn’t provide me with a place to change. Does that make sense?” 

Gaara cocks his head at her, and Sakura feels...vulnerable. Like she shared too much, and suddenly wishes she could backpedal and erase the last thirty seconds.

“That does make sense,” Gaara concedes. “When I first became Kazekage, I know everyone looked at me and only saw the jinchūriki. But I knew I was more than that, and it was a fight to change perceptions. But I still had the room to grow here.”

Sakura nods, but doesn’t say anything, and Gaara seems to sense the end of the conversation.

“Regardless, we’re happy to have you here, Sakura-san. I hope this becomes your new home.”

* * *

The woman before Sakura had a gentle presence, a stark contrast to the many kunoichi she worked with in Konoha (and Suna, to be frank). Her hair was a deep auburn, pulled back in a professional-looking bun, but she wore a simple set of standard issue jonin pants and a long sleeve shirt. In her right hand, she held a clipboard, and in her left, she was tapping a pen thoughtfully on her lips, a nervous habit if Sakura had ever seen one.

“My name’s Ameyoshi Utaka, Haruno-san, and I’ll be your therapist. If we don’t click after a few sessions, feel free to request a different therapist at the front desk — there’s no shame if that’s the case. I work mostly with medical ninjas, but I also serve as the general counselor for the orphanage in Suna.” Utaka glances up, and taps her clipboard with her pen. “I’ve read your file — what’s not redacted, anyways, but we can talk about whatever you want to talk about. The weather, if you’d like. The only important thing is to try and be honest. As a reminder, these files are extremely well sealed, and won’t be released to anyone, unless you request it.”

Sakura nods, tucking her feet under her legs on the cushy loveseat. The office was warm, personal — different from any medical office she had been in. It’s painted purple, filled to the brim with books from the traditional diagnostic manuals to even a copy of  _ The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi. _ Sakura eyes a small basket of fidget toys in the corner that she assumes must be for the kids in the orphanage. Utaka follows her line of sight to the toys, and smiles brightly.

“Even the grownups use those. Sometimes it’s easier to talk through things when you’re solving a rubix cube, or so I’ve noticed.”

Sakura nods, and picks up what looks like reusable bubble wrap, pressing the bubbles experimentally. “Okay, I can see the appeal,” she admits, glancing up at Utaka. “I’m not sure where to start.”

Utaka waves her hand. “I can start with some questions, if that helps?”

Sakura nods, tensing slightly. Even this casual conversation feels slightly invasive, like a sample slide under a microscope, and she can’t help but shift restlessly on the couch.

“How are you like Suna, so far?”

Sakura blinks, the question far more bland than she expected. She can do this. “I like it. Gaara — the Kazekage and his family have been very welcoming,” she hedges. “The heat is a bit harder to get used to.”

Utaka nods encouragingly. “How have you spent your time with them, so far?”

“Temari-san and I have begun working on the lesson planning for the medical training of the Academy students, and I shadowed Kankurō-san in his lab, and I’ve been assisting Gaara-sama with some assistant duties. They’ve also invited me to their family dinners, which is...very kind of them, considering I’m new here.” Sakura finishes slowly, feeling more like she’s participating in small-talk at the hospital than a therapy session. It didn’t resemble the psych evals she took in Konoha at all.

“You’ve known them for over ten years, is that right? Even if you’re new in Suna, your relationship with them goes back further,” Utaka points out. “You’ve even saved all of their lives before. The poison extraction technique with Kankurō-san is still talked about in the hospital.”

“Well, yes, but that’s more of a professional relationship. Not a personal one.”

“They may see it differently,” the redhead shrugs. “Regardless, isn’t it good to make deeper connections here? It seems like they’re trying to be your friend. Why don’t you let them?”

“We’re shinobi,” Sakura replies dryly. “Everything has a deeper motive.”

“Inviting you to stay in the Kazekage compound would indicate a decent amount of trust,” Utaka says thoughtfully, tapping her pen against her lips. “For homework, I’d like you to write down the worst case scenario of what could happen if you accept their friendship, and what the best case scenario is. Bring it to our next session and we’ll talk more about it.”

Sakura nods and Utaka jots another note on her clipboard. “Tell me about your team back in Konoha. How was your relationship with them?”

“Well…”

* * *

When Sakura careens into her dreamscape, tied up with thoughts about therapy — who knew therapy had  _ homework _ — she’s immediately dropped into surgery, up to her elbows in blood as she barks orders at nurses while attempting to reconstruct the abdominal cavity of an Academy-fresh genin, it’s a  _ miracle _ she even made back to Konoha alive, taking an explosive tag to the gut —

The girl on the surgery table opens her eyes and looks at Sakura. “You know how this ends, Haruno-san, I don’t know why you always forget,” Yamadate Kinri pouts. “I always die on this table.”

Sakura freezes, chakra flickering out on her hands. She forgot — she always forgot how  _ young  _ Kinri was. She looks like a young Ino, long blonde hair matted with blood and gore. She remembers clearly that her youth distracted her in this surgery, even though she was too experienced to fall prey to that trap —  _ kami, we’re sending children to war _ .

Kinri smiles at her, blood dribbling from her mouth. “I signed up for being a ninja, just like you, Haruno-san.”

Sakura remembers giving Kinri a lollipop once after she broke her leg in a training accident, and how she didn’t wince at all when the bone was set.

“I don’t think you can really make that call at 6, or even 12, Kinri-chan” Sakura murmurs, clenching her dripping fists. She feels sick, seeing this girl who was chewed up and spit out by a war machine, even in the “good” village.

“I became a legal adult when I became a genin,” the girl chides, twisting her head to get a better look at Sakura. “I was prepared to die for my village.”

“Were you really?” Sakura asks quietly, hands still twisted in her innards, a frozen parody of the failed surgery that’s haunted her since she was 18 years old.

“No,” she smiles. “I wasn’t really. I don’t think anyone’s ready to die at 12, no matter how what the Academy teaches you.”

Sakura takes one blood covered hand and smooths Kinri’s hair, heart twisting inside her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Kinri grasps her hand, a blood-soaked smile playing on her lips. “I’m dead, Haruno-san,” she says gently. “‘I’m sorry’ means very little now.”

Sakura awakens twisting in her sheets, hands clawed into her sheets, a snarl twisting her face.

When she stomps down the stairs, dream tangled around her, Kankurō blinks at her sleepily from the kitchen table, halfway through applying his face paint while staring in a tabletop mirror.

“Who pissed in  _ your _ cornflakes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bitch to write. I must conclude it’s because there's no Sasori in it. Love that neurotic bastard. I know, I know, it's also a short chapter, but it do be like that sometimes.
> 
> How the hell do you write a fight scene? I love Sakura kicking ass but like. My spatial awareness is zero. Any references are appreciated. I love hearing all the ideas y’all have in the comments. Itachi and Deidara!! Team 7!! All of those ideas are thrown into my massive google doc where I outline ideas for different chapters, so thank you! We love a crowd-sourced fic.
> 
> Sakura’s experience with the dead is inspired by my own family’s experience after the suicide of a family member. We’d speak with him in dreams, my mom would look up and see him out of the corner of her eye, and we’d relive his death in flashbacks and nightmares. Is it a ghost, or is it just grief? I don’t have any answers about that.
> 
> Chapter four might take a hot minute, bc I’m in a depressive episode where it’s hard to even consume content, much less create content, but I am ever appreciative to all of you reading this, and I will continue to chug along in writing this!!

**Author's Note:**

> Any medical knowledge that sounds correct comes from [malamanteau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malamanteau/pseuds/malamanteau) who sent me pictures of her EMT training manual and answered my inane questions. Wow, check out the ROI on that medical school knowledge, baby. Anyways, go read her fic. Any errors are my own, because ET is in medical school and therefore has very little free time to ensure I'm not blatantly lying about the human body.
> 
> Come vibe with me on tumblr, [criticalho](https://criticalho.tumblr.com/). Would love to yell about about this au I've created!! If by some ungodly reason you're interested in beta-ing for me please message me on tumblr.


End file.
